Oh, Brother
by dreammaker-heartbreaker
Summary: The Musketeers had accepted d'Artagnan as one of their own; their loyalty knew no bounds. That is, until a face from his past appears and comes between these inseparables. Can a serial killer threatening the women of Paris unite these musketeers or will they be ripped apart? [Reviews are very much appreciated!]
1. Chapter 1

Sitting in the garrison, the wine was flowing merrily and spirits were high. It had been another triumphant day for the musketeers; the criminals of Paris were defeated once again and their mission had secured D'artagnan's position as an official Musketeer- what was once three was now four, and their bond was stronger than ever. That is until a face from D'artagnan's made a surprise appearance.

"D'ARTAGNAN!" the voice boomed throughout the nearly empty garrison and caused the young man to turn violently in its direction. The wine had made his reactions slow and his balance unsteady, yet the bottle he was holding never left the grasp of his palm and despite having to blink multiple times to steady his focus, he knew instantly who the visitor was. The high spirits immediately left the musketeers as they could hear the malice in the scream. D'artagnan's smile had vanished and was replaced with shock and horror combined with concern. His wine consumption can be the only explanation as to why the next thing he remembers is being hurled against the wooden beam and feeling the stab of a pistol barrel pushed under his chin. Of course, his fellow comrades had surrounded the commotion and were ready to take action if necessary. Aramis' spirits were taking longer than Athos' to comprehend the seriousness of the situation and Porthos, although he wore the expression of concern well, felt it harder to convey it in his demeanour.

"Do not make any rash actions Mademoiselle. However D'artagnan has wronged you, an agreement can be made without any violence I'm sure." Athos, always the voice of reason had the enviable ability to convey sober thoughts and sentiments regardless how much wine he had consumed. The woman pinned to D'artagnan never broke eye contact but expertly drew a second pistol and pointed it at Athos. This was sufficient to pull Aramis out of his alcohol fuelled complacency and made a move to step forward, one look from Athos however told him to remain where he stood.

"Who are you?" She asked Athos not lowering either pistol.

"I am Athos of the King's Musketeers, and I feel compelled to tell you that should you shoot anyone of us, it would guarantee a noose around your neck by daylight."

She sneered at his attempt of reasoning and turned her attention back to D'artagnan.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you right now?"

"The noose for starters."

"Oh please, a reason I could care about." Concern flashed in D'artagnan's eyes but Porthos' voice distracted his thoughts.

"Before you do blow his head off, what has he done? "

"Everyone deserves a chance to repent Mademoiselle, regardless of their crimes. What did he do? Rob you? Made promises he couldn't keep? Left you at the altar without so much as a wave goodbye?" with each suggestion, Aramis was stepping closer and closer. Her resolve was faltering and they could recognise her strength weakening.

"What did he do to you?" Athos pressed, which brought her out of her reverie and she tightened her grip on both pistols ready to shoot with conviction.

"You think I'm his mistress?" She looked into D'artagnan's face disgusted and his silence was more than enough admission for his guilt. "Just what have you been up to since you left?" She turned her attention back to Athos, Aramis and Porthos and confessed, "My name is Evette D'artagnan... I'm his sister."

Porthos approached her almost silently from behind, threw up both arms causing the pistols to fire, he spun her under his own arm grabbing both guns as she twirled right into the arms of an expectant Aramis. D'artagnan made no action to move from the beam he had been held against, but Athos stood in front of Evette while she struggled to free herself from Aramis' grasp.

"Sister?" Athos asked.

"Didn't see that one coming." Porthos quipped from the sidelines as he stowed the pistols in his own belt.

"Oh, I see you've been telling all of Paris about the family you abandoned D'artagnan." She continued to push against Aramis' clutch to no avail, "did you not think about me at all since you left? The last time I heard your name was the same day I was told our father had been murdered by a Musketeer named Athos, and that you had left to avenge his death. Gone without so much as a goodbye, I thought you were dead. I lost everything in one day, and now I find you here, not only consorting with the man who killed our father, but a Musketeer yourself!" She finally lost the strength she had left and stood still. " A musketeer...just like you always wanted."

After a moment, Athos stepped forward and stood before her, "We can explain the events which allowed D'artagnan become a musketeer, and the circumstances surrounding your father's death clear my name and I assure you, it was not the doing of any of the King's musketeers. However, it is a long story and I feel that Aramis may tire from holding you so long. If you can promise that you will not attack again, then we will explain everything to you, and it would be much more comfortable for you if we were sat down."

She considered his proposal then looked up at the face of her holder, she was relaxing in the company of these supposed innocent men and with a playful glint in her eye said "I would much rather stay in this warm embrace. But I'm sure standing for so long would tire everyone, so unless there is a bed we could retire to" she winked at Porthos, which raised his eyebrows in surprise, "I suppose sitting will suffice."

Aramis loosened his grip on her while smirking and she moved away from him-dramatically slow. Porthos was sat at the table with the silent D'artagnan, wine was poured into everyone's cups and Athos began to tell the story of the Musketeer imposters who were the real murderers of their father.

Evette listened attentively to the story, secretly mesmerised by Athos' calming voice and manner and felt that when she had been focused too longer on his face than what was deemed appropriate turned her attention to Aramis and Porthos, both of whom would contribute to the events that Athos was describing. D'artagnan however, did not speak for the entirety of Athos' speech.

When Athos had concluded the story, still with no explanation as to why D'artagnan had abandoned his sister. Evette pondered for a minute longer.

"Well brother, you have been busy." He did not raise his head nor make eye contact with her once since sitting. "I can see my sudden appearance has shocked you and apparently has brought on a sudden form of mutism, but regardless of what you may think of me" and she looked pointedly at the three other musketeers, "I am not callous. He needs time and I'll give it to him." She touched D'artagnan's shoulder and said "I'll leave you with your thoughts" before making her way toward the exit. But before she left the shelter, she heard the question; "Where are you staying?"

D'artagnan stood before her. She told him that she had yet to find a room somewhere and he told her to go to the Bonacieux residence, and to ask if she could stay in the sewing room. He offered her the directions and she left his company. D'artagnan stood there in a state of indecision. On the one hand, he was too ashamed to face the musketeers but on the other, he had just offered his home, to the person he hoped to avoid just a little bit longer. Choosing the lesser of two evils, and deciding his wine was too good to go to Porthos, he turned around and rejoined the men. He had some explaining to do.

* * *

Evette knocked politely on the door in front of her, she would make a much more civilised first impression this time. When Constance opened the door, she simply greeted her with the phrase "D'artagnan sent me." It was enough to gain entry and Constance allowed her through without questioning. Once inside she said "My name is Evette D'artagnan, and I am here to ask for a room. I will pay of course."

"Evette D'artagnan?" Constance asked, " D'artagnan sent you?"

"Yes he did."

"And where is he now?" Constance began to busy herself with menial tasks, certainly none that warranted immediate attention.

"Drinking over at the Musketeer garrison I expect."

"Right."

* * *

D'artagnan joined his friends and made no attempt to tell his story, and the gentlemen that they are; they didn't press the matter. A comfortable silence fell upon them and inevitably their minds wandered to Evette.

Porthos recalled the passion in her actions and the anger she wasn't afraid to show. Aramis remembered the strength of her body when she struggled against his arms, and the flicker of playfulness in her eye as she joked with him. Athos thought of the intensity of her stare and the attentiveness of how she listened to his words. Each of them appreciated the softness of her features and her fearless nature; she was most definitely a lady they were not going to forget easily.

D'artagnan on the other hand, tried his very hardest to forget about his sister. He wanted to forget the anger in her voice, the strength when she pushed him and how she clung to Athos' every word wanting to know all about the brother who had abandoned her. Yet he was irritated, he saw how the others looked at her and how she was able to tease and flirt her way in their favour, but he wasn't surprised. She was like that.

An empty cup pulled Athos out of his thoughts and broke the silence. "D'artagnan you should speak with Evette." The mention of her name from Athos' lips felt wrong to D'artagnan, it sounded like a foreign language. D'artagnan merely nodded noncommittally and left the table. He sluggishly made his way to the Bonacieux house knowing that with each step he took, he was walking towards a life he thought he had left behind. Before he had the chance to open the door, Constance was pushing him back out into the night.

The cold sting of her slap sobered his mind. "How dare you send her here?" Slap. "You didn't even think of asking me first?" Slap. "How did you think that would be ok?" Slap. "You're married." She had run out of steam and waited for his answer.

He shook the pain from his face and re-focused his eyes. "Married?" he asked, "to who?" Since her last statement was not a question, he didn't quite know how to respond.

"Evette D'artagnan. It all makes sense now, why you've been sneaking around with me, all of the secrets and lies-"

"No, that's in consideration for YOUR husband."

She considered this for a moment and her anger seemed to fade slightly.

"Evette is not my wife, Constance, she is my sister."

Rather than wait for her reaction, he resentfully walked past her and entered the house. It was cold inside, unwelcoming and filled with unspoken words. He knew tonight wasn't the time to apologise to Constance. Not that he wanted to. He decided to sleep and face his problems in the daylight. Tomorrow would clear up today's confusion.


	2. Chapter 2

Evette rose before the sun but it wasn't early enough. She checked D'artagnan's room and found that it was empty. Not wanting to take liberties, she helped herself to one slice of bread and a small drink of water and left after tidying the sewing room. The streets of Paris were quiet; the ladies of the night were making their way home, men were sleeping off their drink in the doorways of their homes and young servants were commuting to their place of work before their masters even considered waking. Evette noted how peaceful the city was at this time, the chaos of the night was over and the commotion of the day was yet to begin. The day was still, bracing itself for what was to come.

Not really knowing her way around, Evette wandered aimlessly. Her plan was to find D'artagnan, but since the city was alien to her, she didn't know where to start. She knew that she wouldn't find him back at the garrison; he knew that's the first place she would look. It had been so long, but they knew each other better than anyone else. Before she realised where her feet were taking her, she was at the garrison. Well, there was nowhere else for her to be, why shouldn't she wait here until sunrise at least?

Her footsteps were loud under the crunch of the yet unthawed soil, and with each tread she took she felt that she was waking the sleeping musketeers that surrounded her. She reached the seat where she had sat not eight hours earlier for a moment of peace when she heard the unmistakable footfall of a man behind her. In a moment of panic, Evette stood quickly and hoped to evade the stranger without confrontation. She was alone after all; it was a vulnerable situation.

"I didn't mean to frighten you Mademoiselle." His voice sounded familiar, so she turned to face him. It was one of the men from the night before. She couldn't recall his name, which was a shame. "I didn't expect to find anyone out here. I can leave, if you wish to be alone?"

"Don't be silly. This is more your home than it is mine. Monsieur...?"

"Aramis, Mademoiselle D'artagnan."

"Ah yes, I remember; a name just as handsome as its owner." He tried to look contrite, but couldn't quite manage it. "Please, call me Evette."

"As you wish" he said as he sat opposite her, "Evette."

"I didn't think anybody would be out of their beds at this hour Monsieur Aramis, what has prompted you to wake so early?" She let him ponder for a second, "Or are you just getting to bed?" She leaned forward and smiled playfully. She thought a blush was forming on his cheeks but, without hesitation he answered.

"Not at all...Evette," he felt it strange to address her so informally, "I always struggle to sleep after a night of debauchery, I feel the pull of the Church and find it best not to fight it."

"Debauchery? You feel that drinking wine late into the night within the confines of your own garrison debauched?"

"We all have our own ideas of debauched behaviour Mademoiselle." She didn't want to offend him, but how could she help it?

"I apologise Aramis. I shouldn't tease you. It's just that I have known men who have behaved much worse and don't even know the meaning of debauchery."

"I am sorry for you-"

"They clearly didn't have the moral compass of a Musketeer."

He couldn't work out if she was teasing or being sincere.

"Did d'Artagnan see you last night?"

"I thought he must've spent the night here? He wasn't there when I left earlier."

Aramis looked concerned, and indeed he was. Concerned that he had gotten d'Artagnan into trouble, if he didn't go back to the Bonacieux house, did he spend the night with someone else?

"Yes, he must have spent the night here. He'll be in Athos' room no doubt. I know he complains about Porthos' snoring-"

"Ah, Aramis. That's something else you'll have to ask forgiveness for. You're a terrible liar. Is he seeing someone? A woman?"

"It's not my place to say...if he was that is."

"If he was...yes. I suppose you're right. He's all grown up now- it seems the virginal boy from Gascony is long gone." Aramis disguised his laugh for a cough and continued to watch her, "He's a different person now." She fell into a moment of reflection and almost forgot that she was in Aramis' company. "I seem to have distracted you Aramis, you were on your way out when you found me. Please don't feel obliged to stay; I'm quite content in my own company."

"As I would be if I were you. But I wouldn't feel right leaving you alone when it is barely light out here." Truthfully, he felt that he needed to remove her from the garrison, an early morning after the kind of night the regiment had had was no place for a lady. "Would you like to come with me?"

"To Church?" She tried to keep the stunned tone out of her voice, but he heard it.

"To Church. "

* * *

D'artagnan was sat on the banks of the Seine, the morning dew and frost was rising from the water and he was savouring the tranquillity he knew wouldn't last. Merchants and sailors were tending to their ships and as the sun came up, more and more Parisians interrupted his scene.

"I presume you got everything sorted with Evette?" He didn't know how long Athos had been sat next to him, but he could feel the sarcasm oozing from his every word.

"I don't want to talk about her Athos."

"So we're taking the high road, are we? A commendable choice, but it won't resolve anything."

"Why did she find me? What does she want?" he looked at his friend, and Athos knew now was not the time to be teasing.

"Only she can tell you that." D'artagnan stamped his foot in childish frustration; he wanted to avoid her until she disappeared. But everyone knew that wasn't going to happen. "But in my opinion, I think she just wants her brother back." Athos stood and offered his hand to the new musketeer who hesitantly took it.

* * *

Aramis and Evette were sat in a pew in a very beautiful church. The sunlight was streaming through the stained glass and despite the echoes and the fact that they were the only two in the congregation, she felt safe here. Perhaps it was the company she was keeping. Aramis was next to her with his head bowed, it had been a long time since she had been in Church and she couldn't quite remember how to do it. There was even a part of her that was surprised she hadn't been thrown out after taking her first step through the door and was even more surprised that she had been inside the building for more than five minutes and had yet to burst into flames. Aramis could feel her reluctance and feared it would turn into boredom. He took her hand and began to pray aloud. He asked his God for forgiveness for his behaviour from the night before, he asked that his strength continue and would allow him to continue being a Musketeer, he thanked God for keeping him safe in all of his fights and trials and asked if He would grant Evette with the love and strength to repair her relationship with D'artagnan. Amen. He released her hand only to find it being pulled back, Evette sat with her head bowed and eyes closed, "Please, allow to D'artagnan to find forgiveness in his heart and help him discover the love he once had for me." She raised her head and felt as if a weight had been lifted. Aramis was watching her intently, she turned to face him and staring into his eyes whispered "Amen."

They were back into the morning sunshine and against his best judgement Aramis' curiosity got the better of him.

"You asked God to allow D'artagnan to forgive you?"

"Yes."

"But I thought he left you? I was under the impression you were the one who needed to do the forgiving?"

"Why do you think he left?"

"To find Athos I thought-"

"It was, but once he'd found him, he didn't come back. He has his reasons."

"None that I could ever comprehend." She smiled at his sincerity and couldn't help but admire how handsome he was. She had joked about it before but in this light, she could appreciate his beauty fully. His eyes were soft yet still had intensity about them, his mouth was often serious but easily fell into a genuine smile when he was amused. He was not restrained in his happiness like she thought Athos was. Athos. How strange to think of him now when she was in the company of Aramis. To distract herself, she stopped abruptly in front of him. They had made it back to the garrison and she didn't want to go inside. Instead, she looked into his eyes and without giving him a chance to react, kissed him. Softly and sweetly on the lips, she held his face, smiled and left. He really was rather beautiful.


	3. Chapter 3

Aramis wiped his lips and walked into the garrison, his fellow musketeers were gathered. Captain de Treville was addressing them from the stairs.

"I don't think it needs to be said that this is a sensitive issue and discretion is advised. But something needs to be done and the sooner this man is caught, the better. Be vigilant and cautious, he should be considered a danger to everyone not just women. Find him."

Aramis stood behind Athos and Porthos and waited for the other Musketeers to disband.

"What's happened?"

"They found another one" Porthos explained.

"A woman, down by the marketplace. Dead."

Aramis crossed himself, "That's the second one? In what, two months?"

"Third" Porthos poured himself a drink, "There was the one down by the Seine a few weeks ago."

"We should have caught him then. He's good." Athos was already on his third drink, but they weren't taking any effect. "There can't be a fourth."

His comrades nodded in agreement. "Where's d'artagnan?" Aramis asked nonchalantly.

"He's gone to warn Madame Bonacieux. She shouldn't be alone on these streets."

Aramis agreed, and then realised he had just left Evette alone, and she didn't know the city at all. "Evette!" he said to the others, "she's alone."

Athos stood and simply said "We'll find her" and the three of them stood and made their way hastily out of the garrison. They decided to split up and search the most probable locations, Aramis ran through the marketplace, Athos revisited the Seine for the second time that morning and Porthos checked the faces of the busy streets. He found her sitting near a well, she was dabbing her neck with a damp cloth evidently trying to cool down.

"It gets hot with all of these layers on." Porthos looked down bashfully, "There are laces, corsets, strings and all sorts under here. You need the strength of a horse just to keep standing." She continued to dab her neck and the top of her chest.

"Evette, you need to go back to the Bonacieux house."

"Why?" she began to panic, "is it d'Artagnan?"

"No, no! He's fine. But there's someone out there killing girls, and before we catch him you need to stay safe."

"Oh, well, I'm not as fragile as I look."

"I know believe me, my heart is still pounding from when those musket balls skimmed my head."

"What can I tell you? Hell hath no fury like a Gascon scorned. I'll be fine. Like I said, I'm not as fragile as I look." She stood from the well and began to walk away.

"Be that as it may," he said blocking her way, "I have to escort you home."

"I don't think that's necessary."

"I don't think I'm giving you a choice."

She resigned herself to Porthos' protection but had some stipulations he would have to agree to.

"Very well, but, I want to take your arm. If I have to have my own body guard then I at least don't want it to look like I have a body guard. At least if it looks like you're my suitor, people wouldn't think me weak."

"Well I wouldn't be a very good musketeer if I didn't comply."

"Never mind musketeer, you wouldn't be a gentleman if you didn't."

"Well that's always been debateable." She laughed at him and took his arm. It felt strong and safe, maybe she did need him. Then again _need _had always seemed like such a dependent word to her, something she couldn't understand, couldn't control. _Want_ on the other hand, now that was a word she knew how to handle.

* * *

D'artagnan was sat at the Bonacieux table.

"So you understand that until this man is caught, you need to be chaperoned by someone whenever you leave the house."

Monsieur Bonacieux held his wife's hand. He was ignorantly unaware of how she was trying to pull away and how she hadn't broken eye contact with D'artagnan since he had sat them both down. Initially she worried that he was going to confess about their affair, she exhaled with relief when he told them about the murderer.

"I will not leave my wife's side until you catch this lunatic." D'artagnan then realised that this was perhaps not the best laid plan. "It is only women that he is after isn't it?" Bonacieux had much to learn about courage and it seemed that no matter how often his house was filled with musketeers, their bravery was not rubbing off on him.

"We believe so, yes." He said dismissively, "we'll catch him Constance; I don't want you to doubt that." He looked into the face of the woman he so loved and ached for not being able to comfort her.

"Oh you don't have to worry about her Monsieur. Your job is to catch that murderer." All D'artagnan could do was nod and leave.

* * *

Porthos walked with Evette, arm in arm. He was walking proud and tall. It felt nice being in the company of a beautiful woman.

"Where did you learn to be so brave?" he asked her. He usually didn't have to put up with so many protestations to protect someone.

"You think because of my gender I should quiver and cower?"

"Not at all, I've known many a brave women, but there's bravery and then there's wanting to confront a serial killer."

"I never said I wanted to confront him. That would be idiocy. I'm used to protecting myself against violent men, that's all. It's not something I particularly want to do, it's something I have to do."

"What violent men?!"

"Just men. Besides, you've seen D'artagnan fight, who do you think he practiced with growing up? I'm not only handy with a pistol, I've been known to win sword fights and all sorts." She looked up to his face, "Are you shocked Monsieur?"

* * *

D'artagnan walked out of the door only to be greeted by the view of Porthos and Evette laughing together as she held her hand against his face. Not wanting to confront them, but also wanting his presence to be known, he barged between them disrupting their point of contact. Porthos knew he had crossed a line; he stepped further away from Evette and asked politely if she could was able to make the rest of the way without him. Since she was practically at the front door anyway, she was obviously capable of making the rest of the way without him. But before she could answer, he had set off after D'artagnan.

"D'artagnan!" he barked , following him down the crowded street. "D'artagnan!"

He eventually caught up to his friend, but did not receive a warm welcome.

"What?! Porthos! What?!"

He didn't quite know what to say. "Nothing happened."

"I couldn't care if it did." He went to walk away.

"Yeah, looks that way. I get it. You're protective-"

"Oh, no. No. She can do whatever she wants. She usually does. I'm not even surprised. Carry on." Then he walked away from Porthos, leaving him confused.

Porthos made his way back to the garrison, he needed to tell Aramis and Athos that he had found Evette, he was less keen to let them know about what D'artagnan saw but knew it would come out sooner or later.

He found them practicing their sword skills and no matter how impressive their moves were, he could tell they were distracted and they knew it too. As soon as they spotted him they stowed their swords and joined Porthos.

"I found her", he told them, "She's back at the Bonacieux house."

"Good, I'm sure D'artagnan will appreciate that." Athos said, dripping with sarcasm. He knew.

"You've seen him?"

"He was here a few minutes ago. Really Porthos, she's his sister. It's not appropriate."

"Nothing happened. I swear it."

"Well, D'artagnan thinks it did. So for the sake of us all, you need to speak with him." Athos drew his sword again, ready to continue his practice. When he faced Aramis he found him pensively staring toward the ground.

"You're quiet." Porthos stated.

It pulled Aramis from his reverie and he realised that he was expected to participate in the conversation. However, because of his past behaviour with Evette, he was less than excited to do so. He decided that no answer would be the best answer, so he merely shook his head dismissively and drew his sword. Was he hurt that Evette was now interested in Porthos? Or ashamed that he had allowed her to kiss him?

"You need to sort things out with D'artagnan quickly; we have a murderer to catch." Athos had the last word, and Porthos knew he was being dismissed.


	4. Chapter 4

Once Aramis and Athos had decided that their muscles had been loosened enough with their morning's practice, they set out to begin their search. They found their hats, ensured they had enough ammunition if they needed it and set out to the stables. Aramis was still distracted and Athos was about to lose patience with his silence. Athos liked the peace and quiet more than any other man, but it was getting ridiculous.

"Aramis" he said delicately, "what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Really? Because usually you would have commented on the beauty of the sky, if not the beauty of the milk maids we passed earlier. But you've not said a word."

"They weren't nearly as beautiful as yesterday's maids."

"I didn't think the compliments were about whether they were actually beautiful or not."

Aramis didn't respond and continued to saddle his horse. Did he like Evette? Did he owe D'artagnan an apology? He didn't return the kiss after all; he was just there when it happened. He had no control over the matter; he was just a casualty of war if you will.

"Where do you propose we start searching?" Athos never usually asked for ideas about their missions, he was the one who decided and the others followed. But Aramis was so despondent that he figured a taste of leadership could pull him out of his mood.

"The body?"

Athos nodded in agreement and they mounted their horses and made their way to the morgue. The inside of the building was always cold, too cold. Aramis adjusted his collar to keep the chill from his neck but Athos was unaffected. He was not a morbid man, but he could sense peace in this building, where everyone else saw a cadaver or corpse, he saw someone who was no longer burdened with the sufferings that were de rigueur for the living.

"Where is the girl who was brought in this morning?" Athos asked the coroner. The small man directed them to a table without a word and pulled down an almost white sheet that covered her body.

"Barely recognisable she was when they brought her in. But I've put her right now." The man was looking longingly at the girl's still face, just as he was about to touch her hair, Athos pushed his hand away and shoved him away from the table. There was always something about that man that he couldn't and wouldn't like. His relationship with death was too...sensual. The man, and that's being generous, cowered from Athos' disgusted stare and scurried from the room.

The musketeers looked down on her helpless face and had a moment of sadness for her. She was only young, perhaps 18 Aramis suggested and Athos surmised that she wasn't a wealthy girl, judging from the clothes they found on her, what was left of them anyway.

"Perhaps she was an orphan, or a runaway? Considering no one has come to claim her, do you suppose she's married?" Aramis' investigative skills were emerging. Athos was looking through the belongings she had on her when she was found.

"Well, there is no wedding ring, unless he took it?"

"No, this wasn't a robbery."

* * *

Evette was sat in the Bonacieux sewing room, being cooped up indoors while enduring the seemingly endless conversations with Monsieur Bonacieux was not her idea of a good time. Since D'artagnan had told him the news of the killer, he hadn't left Constance out of his sight once and it was beginning to take its toll.

"My love, perhaps you should go to the market? Stock up on supplies for us seeing as we won't be leaving the house until this man is caught?" Constance was staring out of the window, she was desperate to be rid of her husband and she needed to talk to D'artagnan. Evette found it interesting that Constance was willing to be rid of her protector at a time like this- perhaps she was stronger than she looked.

"Oh I couldn't possibly leave you!" he was very theatrical in his ways, Evette noted how the words he spoke were passionate but they came from the mouth of someone who exuded indifference.

"We'll be fine, the door will be locked and I promise we won't move one inch from this room." She smiled sweetly at her husband and Evette could tell that Constance knew how to manipulate him.

"I suppose we will need some supplies and who knows how long it will take for those musketeers to catch that killer? For supposed guards of Paris, I often see them standing idly by doing very little. It's a wonder any of us are safe really." Evette clenched her jaw to refrain from commenting on the man's ignorance and was intrigued to see that Constance appeared to be doing the same thing. "I won't be long my darling. Do not answer the door to anyone!" And thankfully, he left without further protestation.

"Finally!" Constance whispered under her breath as she walked into the other room. She sat down at the table and proceeded to write a letter. Evette was feeling more and more like a piece of furniture in this home, they didn't notice her and seemed to be living their life around her, not that she minded very much as she had always been interested in the dynamics of human behaviour. She observed her from the doorway not daring to breathe loudly should Constance realise that she wasn't alone. Evette technically was not spying on her, Constance knew she was in the room she just was not that interested in interacting with her, so why shouldn't she watch her. When Constance sealed the letter, Evette thought it safe to approach her.

"A note for your sweetheart?"

Constance jumped at the intrusion, she had forgotten about Evette. Fortunately she hadn't addressed the letter yet.

"Excuse me?"

"The letter, it's for your lover?"

"I don't know what you're implying, but-"

"I'm not implying anything. I've known many women who have taken a lover when they're unhappy in their marriage. I think it's admirable, to make your own decisions rather than pander to your husband's whims."

"How- how dare you? Don't presume to know me. Because you don't...to insinuate that I would have an affair..."

"I'm not presuming to know you. I just know unhappiness when I see it."

The noise of the front door closing cut their conversation short and with the appearance of Monsieur Bonacieux, Evette thought it would be best to sit quietly in the other room. Before exiting, she noticed that Constance discreetly tucked the letter she wrote into the drawer behind her.

* * *

Porthos walked into the morgue to join Aramis and Athos, D'artagnan followed with his head bowed and the scowl still on his face. Tensions were still high and Aramis was feeling increasingly uncomfortable the longer he was stood next to D'artagnan. He casually moved to stand next to Porthos whose shoulders were hunched with stress. Athos was quietly talking to D'artagnan, explaining the injuries the girl had sustained and showing him her belongings.

"Did you talk with him?" Aramis asked Porthos.

"I tried, but he's not having any of it. He thinks I've been having an affair with her."

"Hm. Have you?"

Porthos gave Aramis such a look of hurt and betrayal that it felt as if it physically hurt him.

"Sorry, stupid question. I apologise." Porthos walked away to hear the rest of Athos' explanations while Aramis struggled to decide whether it was in fact, a stupid question. When Porthos reached the other two musketeers, D'artagnan had evidently heard enough about the dead girl. He turned away from them and stood with Aramis.

"Can you believe him?"

"Uh...what? Sorry who?"

"Porthos, with Evette. I mean it's just ridiculous."

"Oh, well you know Porthos, he'll look after her."

"It's not her I'm worried about."

Before Aramis could press him any further Porthos said from the other side of the room; "I think I know somewhere we can ask about her." The four of them set off with Porthos taking the lead.

* * *

The musketeers made their way to the darkest part of the city. The back alleys formed a maze that provided a hiding place for the delinquents and out laws of Paris. Shadows hide a number of sins and the residents of these streets needed as much darkness as the world would allow them. The four men walked closely together through the winding lanes and as they narrowed they formed a single line with Porthos still leading the way.

"How is it Porthos knows where to go?" D'artagnan asked Athos who walked ahead of him.

"He used to visit someone down here a few years ago. He thinks she'll be able to help."

"She?" D'artagnan asked as he turned back questioningly at Aramis who merely raised his eyebrows and shrugged as a response.

The walls were closing in around them and just when they thought they had reached a dead end, a tiny opening between the building walls led them to a large opening. There were people everywhere. Spirits were high and the wine was flowing. There were children playing and when they saw the musketeers, they ran away and presumably told their parents. People were becoming suspicious and as they walked deeper into the crowd, the atmosphere shifted.

"Are we interrupting something?" Athos quietly asked Porthos who continued to walk forward through the crowd.

"Nah, this is just a Thursday night for these guys." Despite his nonchalance he kept his hand over his sword, just in case. "They're not a fan of the musketeers down here. So don't give them reason to attack." At this comment, Athos turned towards D'artagnan to make sure he understood the terms. The young Gascon had come far since his spontaneous beginnings all those months ago, but he was still a risky recruit as far as Athos was concerned.

"Right, in here." Porthos guided them to what looked to be a regular house which was quite frankly anti climactic after the journey they had just taken. He knocked twice, stopped and then knocked again. The door opened and a bald man with multiple facial scars stood in front of them.

"Porthos?"

"Derell. There's four of us, is that alright?"

The man named Derell, looked the musketeers over once, eventually nodded and opened the door to them.


	5. Chapter 5

The four musketeers entered the house with Porthos still in the lead. The darkness inside engulfed them and momentarily, they were blinded. The candle light eventually corrected their vision and they saw that they were standing in a very grand hallway. The outside of the house did not reflect its interior.

Derell stood in front of them and motioned to the table beside him. Porthos seemed to know what he was insinuating and removed his sword, pistol and other weapons and placed them on the table. He gave a look to the others to tell them that they should be doing the same, but Athos' suspicions got the better of him and he hesitated.

"You won't be seeing any of my girls if you're armed." Derell informed them.

"Girls?" D'artagnan asked looking to Athos, "We're in whore house?"

The grandeur of his surroundings was not suggestive of such a place- from what he had heard about them.

"Problem?" Derell was intimidating not only in stature but in manner. His voice was gruff and his eyes were dark and fiery, he was not afraid to challenge a musketeer and in all honesty they thought if he did, he might just win.

"Nah, no problem Derell, he's just a first timer you know." Porthos calmed him with a hand on his shoulder, clearly they were old acquaintances. D'artagnan was slighted at the comment and proceeded to disarm himself.

"Just trust him." He heard Athos whisper in his ear. Once the four of them were unarmed, Derell guided them to the right into a room. It was beautifully furnished. There were women everywhere, sitting, standing, reading, and writing. If the atmosphere wasn't so civilised it could have been mistaken for a celebratory get together.

"Porthos, you want Nancy?" Derell asked.

"If she's available."

"I'll get her; the rest of you can wait until I get back." Aramis began to look around the room when Derell past him saying, "And no touching!"

"Porthos, what exactly are we doing here?" Athos was trying to be as discreet as possible when one of the women approached them.

"Well, well. I thought I knew all of the musketeers, either you're new to regiment or you're good boys?" Her dress was clearly expensive but provocative, "Have you had your pick yet?"

"We're actually waiting for someone."

"Oh." She walked up to D'artagnan and leaned against him, "That's a shame. I'd have you...free of charge." She was breathing heavily on his neck and he was desperately trying to avoid making eye contact. "Twice."

"Stand down Collette, I believe these are for me." A woman stood before them, presumably Nancy. She was very beautiful with flowing blonde hair and expression that radiated strength. "You do realise it's not four for the price of one?"

After much deliberation with Derell and as long as they paid, they could all have Nancy. "Only one at a time mind you, don't want you breaking my best girl."

"I'm sure they'll be gentle" she said as she ran a finger down Porthos' arm which led to her taking his hand and guiding him out of the room. The others followed suit not really knowing what was going to happen. She walked them up the grand staircase which divided at the top, they veered to the left and after passing different doors and an array of women, they entered the last room on the floor. As expected it was also beautifully furnished and in the middle of the room stood a very large and luxurious four poster bed. She let the men walk in before her and as she was closing the door behind them said "Wooo, four musketeers! I'm in for a busy night" just as another bunch of girls were walking along the corridor.

"Don't do that." Porthos said to her once the door was closed.

"Oh lighten up Porthos, it might never happen!" She smiled at him and they embraced warmly and friendly. "Where've you been?" she asked as they parted, "it's been ages since you've come to see me."

"I'm sorry, I've been busy you know-"

"Musketeering?"

"Exactly."

A moment passed between them until she remembered they weren't alone. "And who are these handsome men? I should at least know your names before we get started."

Porthos remembered his manners and apologised, "This is Aramis, Athos and D'artagnan. Our newest recruit."

"Oh, congratulations D'artagnan. That's very exciting." He was blushing from her compliment; he had never felt so bashful before. She noticed his change in colour but was too polite to mention it. She smiled at them, then went over and sat on the end of the bed, "So, what can I do for you?"

The others shuffled uncomfortably and tried to look anywhere but at her. What exactly was Porthos' plan?

"We need your help with something. I don't know if you heard about the girl that was found this morning?"

"Down at the market? It's awful."

"That's the one. Have you heard anything else about it?"

"No. Should I have?"

"Is there anyone from here that's gone missing recently?"

"Not that I know- you think she was from here?"

"I know she was."

"How? You only see me-"

"She had the mark."

Nancy's face fell and worry over came her. The other men just listened to their conversation; they weren't quite sure what Porthos was talking about. Athos had seen the mark but he had failed to make the connection.

"Can you think of anyone who might have left or you haven't seen for a while?"

She stood up and walked over to the window. "You can't just leave here; no one has left of their own accord for as long as I can remember. You can get thrown out though."

"Has that happened recently?" Athos asked. He was beginning to connect the dots.

"I don't think- a couple...I'm not sure." Nancy was becoming over whelmed; Aramis walked over and sat her down on the window seat. "He can't know I told you. Promise me no one will find out you spoke to me about this." Each of them nodded in agreement. "Joy was the most recent one. I don't really know what happened exactly. One day she was here and the next I heard Derell had to expel her. She was a nice girl, a good earner, I don't know why-" Her eyes began to well. "Do you think it's her?"

"Would you consider identifying her for us?" Aramis gently asked.

"You mean, her body?" he nodded, she shifted uncomfortably but after considering it for a moment said, "I can't do it tonight. I won't be able to get away. In the morning, Derell sleeps in late so it shouldn't be too difficult."

"I'll come and get you-" Porthos started when she interrupted him.

"No, I'll just meet you at the morgue."

"You shouldn't be alone at a time like this", Athos warned her.

"I'm always alone Monsieur, but thank you for your concern."

They had what they came for and after paying her, the musketeers left her room. Porthos lingered.

"I wish you wouldn't do this you know."

"I know." She said and took his hands, "It's not so bad really, Derell actually looks after us pretty well."

"I'd look after you pretty well."

"And I'd love you for it. But there's no place for me out there these days. I'm a fallen woman remember. At least here I live with others like me. We don't want for anything and if I left, I would be living in the gutter within a week. Or worse, look at Joy." She looked down to hide the tears in her eyes.

"I wouldn't let that happen. You know I wouldn't." She looked up to him and he wiped a tear from her face.

"Porthos?" Aramis called from the top of the staircase and their time was up. He let go of her hands and she retreated into her room. She needed to ready herself for the next customer.


	6. Chapter 6

Evette lay awake on the makeshift bed. She knew that D'artagnan was not back yet and couldn't help but resent his freedom. She was more than capable of looking after herself, she had done so before and she could do so now. If only those musketeers would look past her gender they'd recognise her strength and not mistake it for manic passion- which admittedly could run away with her at times.

She tried to make herself comfortable but no matter how many times she tossed and turned there was no settling her. She resigned herself to a sleepless night and decided to just give up. She wandered around the room for a moment inspecting the different fabrics and various Bonacieux owned items when she was diverted by a noise in the street, looking out of the window she watched a group of young men, presumably intoxicated and decided that she couldn't wait around for D'artagnan any longer. He'd had plenty of time to consider his feelings for her sudden appearance. It was time that she took action. She dressed herself and set out into the night.

* * *

D'artagnan offered Porthos a drink as a peace offering. He saw the look in his eye when he spoke to Nancy; he knew that his heart didn't belong to Evette. The four of them sat around the table drinking their wine and trying to delay thinking about the girl in the morgue. Things were actually beginning to feel normal between them. D'artagnan noted how Aramis seemed to be beginning to relax for the first time hearing of the murder, his shoulders had loosened and his expression wasn't so tense. They needed to rid their morbid thoughts before they could consider sleeping.

That's when she walked in. It was as if the patrons of the tavern had not seen a woman before, the chatter died down and drinks were suspended in mid air waiting to be drunk. D'artagnan turned to see who everyone's attention was fixated upon. It was Evette. There she stood, bold as brass in the doorway. Hadn't Porthos told her not to wander alone? Hadn't she heard there was a killer on the loose?

She spotted D'artagnan and walked over to the musketeers table. Athos could sense a conflict about to arise and left to get a refill. Evette took his seat which incidentally was between Porthos and Aramis.

"You can't avoid me forever D'artagnan", she said making herself comfortable.

"I wasn't planning on forever, just until you got tired of Paris and moved on to the next place...to the next man."

"Now, that's not very brotherly is it?" He scoffed at her expectations of him. "What exactly is your problem D'artagnan...are you jealous? That I've been playing with your friends?" At this she began to gently tickle both Aramis and Porthos' hands before they briskly pulled away. It took D'artagnan a moment to realise that she had included Aramis in her flirtation, but before he could react she had stood from her table and made her way over to the bar.

"Buy me one and I'll fix that broken heart of yours." She was leaning so close to Athos that all she needed to do was whisper in his ear for him to hear.

He leaned in closer to her, "What makes you think it needs fixing?" he replied. He wasn't actually surprised that she was next to him and her attempt at flirting did not affect him. In fact, he barely acknowledged it. He handed her the drink and went back to his table, leaving her at the bar rejected.

D'artagnan marched up to her, "What exactly do you want? Why have you come here? Just to ruin everything I've made for myself?" He had such anger in his voice but the fact that he was whispering made it so much worse. "You had your chance for a life back home, and you didn't take it."

"D'artagnan-!"

"No, you've made your bed, it's about time you lay in it." He turned to walk back to the table, when he hesitated and said to her "alone!"

* * *

Evette left the tavern and made her way back through the quiet Parisian streets. She hadn't gone too far when footsteps behind her caused her to pull a hidden knife from the folds of her dress.

"Woah!" Aramis jumped back and she relaxed when she realised who it was, "I'm sorry Mademoiselle. I seem to be getting in the habit of frightening you."

"Oh, don't take it personally Monsieur Aramis", she said stowing her knife, "It's the unknown that I fear, not you."

"As we all do." He motioned for them to continue walking and she permitted him to accompany her. They walked in an awkward silence for a few minutes; drunks were leaving the different taverns- some by choice, others by the hands of the owner. Brawls were echoing through the streets and in the darkest corners, Evette could swear that she saw shadows moving and people scurrying into the night. At least, she thought they were people. A shiver crawled up her spine and her body shuddered. Aramis being the gentleman that he was and thinking that her shiver was the result of the cold removed his cloak and placed it on her shoulders. Seeing that he didn't ask and she had no chance to deny his offer, Evette felt compelled to accept it. It certainly warmed her and as the collar encased her neck she became intoxicated with the smell of Aramis.

"I hope you don't think me too forward-"

"Not at all Monsieur, it was I who kissed you after all."

He blushed and looked away from her. "Quite, but I didn't exactly protest."

"Well, it isn't everyday a man refuses the advances of a woman. Don't be too hard on yourself." She gave him a friendly smile which he returned. They continued their walk all the way to the Bonacieux house, she untied and removed his cloak and handed it back to him. She was just about to enter the house when he exclaimed desperately;

"Should D'artagnan know?"

"Know? Know what?"

"About the kiss, and the time we spent together."

"You're worried because of how he reacted to Porthos?"

He didn't answer but his body language spoke volumes.

"If you feel compelled to tell him, then I won't deter you. But I feel I should tell you that there really is no need. D'artagnan is impulsive and hasty; he would act out before realising that there is no romance between us." Aramis was surprised at her words and he couldn't hide it from his expression. "Oh, Aramis I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tease you. I suppose I didn't think...I kissed you because you had shown me such kindness and I could never thank you enough." She was struggling to find the words, "But more importantly, I kissed you because...well, I wanted to." He was listening intently but there was still sadness in his expression. "But that moment passed. I'm so sorry, not for kissing you but for what it led you to think about me...us."

"Don't fret over it Mademoiselle. Thinking back, it was rather foolish of me to believe it was something more than a kiss."

"Aramis, I-"

"No, please. It's fine, really."

"I suppose acting impulsively could be a family trait. I feel terrible."

"Don't, it's nothing that a drink and a good night's rest won't cure."

"Well in that case, let me invite you in. I'm sure Monsieur Bonacieux will have wine or sherry inside."

"That's not necessary really."

"I'm afraid I insist." She was indignant and he could tell that he would have to accept her offer.

He sat at the table while she rummaged through the Bonacieux cabinets.

"I don't believe it, not a single bottle." She stood with her hands on her hips pondering her next move, "How do they function without wine?" Aramis chuckled at her comment and attempted to leave. "No, we'll find something. I'll bet D'artagnan has something. Wait here." She made her way to her brother's room and began looking through his cupboards. All were empty. She mindlessly started opening drawers and rummaging his desk, when she found an unopened letter. She picked it up and instantly recognised it. It was unaddressed, just as Constance had left it when her husband walked in. It wasn't sealed and she could easily unfold the paper and read the words-

"It really is getting late." Aramis stood in D'artagnan's doorway; she quickly dropped the note and tried to appear not guilty.

"Of course," she couldn't think of convincing him after what she had just discovered. She walked him to the front door and he stopped to ask her one last thing.

"Why?" he asked, hesitated for a second to consider his question, "Why could there be no relationship between us?"

She looked up into his handsome and noble face and in that moment she could see a future with him. He would be the best husband and in return she would try her hardest at being the best wife she could be. He would look after her and protect her, he'd be gentle but passionate and they would live contentedly.

"You're too pure and I don't deserve it."

"Pure? I-"

"Not in that way." And she could actually feel herself beginning to blush, "Pure of heart. You're a good man and you will be a wonderful husband someday. You deserve someone who would be an equally fantastic wife, and before you protest about my ability, let me tell you, I'm not good enough." She smiled at him and closed the door behind her.

Aramis, not so much heartbroken as confused made his way through the darkness. Had a woman ever denied him before? None that he could recall, it was one of the unspoken perks of being a musketeer- women wanted you. This was most definitely a new development. As he walked away from the Bonacieux house he didn't see D'artagnan returning home, but D'artagnan saw him. Rage bubbled inside of him and he stormed into the house.


	7. Chapter 7

Aramis lay awake in his bed. The morning light was beginning to seep through his window. He was quite right, a good night's rest as well as the rum he had consumed when he got home did wonders for his ego. The red head lying next to him didn't hurt matters either. He got up and began to dress himself while his companion slept peacefully.

He had just fastened his trousers when;

"Aramis, it's time. Nancy is on her way." Athos walked in unannounced as he so often did but was not expecting to be met with the nude woman. She awoke at the intrusion and gathered the bed clothes around her quickly. "Oh, I apologise Mademoiselle." He turned to Aramis, "I wasn't aware that Aramis had company." There was a slight disapproving look in his eyes but when he saw humour dance in Aramis' he dropped his resolve and smirked slightly. Athos was no prude, but he began to feel embarrassed for the woman who was caught in quite the compromising situation. But rather than cover her modestly, she relaxed and said;

"That's no problem Monsieur, perhaps you could stay a while?" The sheet covering her body was falling away; first she revealed her leg then her thigh, it was getting higher and higher when Athos snapped out of his hypnotism and said "I don't think so Mademoiselle. We have somewhere we need to be." He bowed his hat to her and walked from the room. Aramis had finished dressing in this time and after bidding his companion goodbye and promising to see her soon, followed Athos.

They stood in the doorway and while Aramis made adjustments to his uniform, Athos gave him a condemning look.

"Oh don't look at me like that; like you've never given in to a bit of temptation." Athos continued to give him the look. He clearly hadn't. "Right, well let's go." Aramis was keen to move on but he couldn't help but smile at last night's conquest. She was a widow of one of the merchants that frequently left Paris on business, if he was being honest, it wasn't the first night that they had spent together, but it was the first night that they had done so with her being single. "I'll tell you one thing Athos, you will find someone someday who you won't be able to resist." He was trying to tease his friend, but it was having no effect.

They reached the morgue and found that D'artagnan was already there. He greeted Athos but was purposefully offhand with Aramis. But he was in high spirits did not even notice. D'artagnan sneered at his attitude; he was not even being coy about being with Evette. He was flaunting it and he calls himself a gentleman.

Within moments, Porthos arrived accompanied by Nancy. She was looking morose and tired.

"I couldn't sleep last night."

Athos motioned to the door for her to enter the building. The familiar cold enclosed on all of them and Athos guided Nancy to the table they visited they day before. They stood around the body and had a moment of silence before Nancy was ready to face her fear. When she nodded at Athos, he removed the sheet from her face. They didn't need to wait to find out whether it was indeed Joy who lay there. As soon as her face was revealed, Nancy expelled a weep that would break even the most callous man's heart. She turned her body into Porthos' and he held her while she cried. They covered the body and escorted her from the building.

They were back at the Bonacieux house, they wanted privacy from the rest of the musketeer regiment and D'artagnan offered the home. Nancy sat at the table holding hands with Porthos, Constance poured them each a drink while Evette handed them out.

"What kind of person would do this? What kind of animal-"

"Here, take a drink" Porthos put the cup in her hand and waited while she drank from it. Evette handed Aramis his drink and they acknowledged each other cordially, D'artagnan watched from the other side of the room seething with betrayal. She handed him his drink and he snatched it away. She rolled her eyes at his childishness; it really was beginning to get old. She handed Athos his and he gently accepted it. She felt the cold touch of his finger tips on hers which caused her to look up at his face, where she was surprised to see he was staring right back into her eyes. Not one usually to be bashful she didn't expect the feeling of embarrassment to rise into her cheeks, but with the sting of last night's rejection fresh in her mind, she moved away from him quickly.

"We need you tell us what you know about her banishment from the brothel." Athos said coolly from his position across the room.

"I don't know very much about it. Really." She turned pleadingly at Porthos to make sure he believed her. He nodded in reassurance.

Athos moved and sat across from her, "Anything you can tell us will be useful. Start with when she first came to the house, what can you remember of her?"

Constance was wiping down her tables and arranging various objects trying to make her way casually over to D'artagnan.

"Is that where you were last night?" she viciously whispered to him, "A whore house?"

He was trying to listen to Nancy and didn't have time nor the inclination to explain himself in front of everyone. Instead of answering her he too moved and sat in the seat next to Athos.

"She was lost when she came to us, most of them are. But it's what she wanted to do; no one forced her into it-"

"Derrell?" Aramis asked.

"No, he's not like that. Every girl in that house is there of their own accord. We truly are. We're looked after there and it's a better place for us than the streets. Derrell isn't the owner you know, he's just there to care for us-make sure the men don't get too...well, you know."

"What was Joy like when you first met her?" D'artagnan was beginning to get enthralled in her story.

"She was nice enough. A bit naive maybe, but most are when they're just starting out. She had her regulars and spoke fondly of them. I don't think it would have been one of them. The girls liked her too, there's always some competition between everyone you know. How much one earns in a night, who's got the most handsome customer, who gets the musketeer..." she looked at Porthos who put his head down. "But she never got involved in petty things like that. She was nice to everyone, some girls even whispered that she was raised a nun and escaped to the dangerous streets of Paris to become a whore. It's all fantastical nonsense of course, she told me that her father had died and her mother was remarried. There was no room for her in her family and she didn't want a husband. She said she felt invisible."

"Why was she expelled from the house?"

"All I can tell you, is I awoke one morning and the girls were in the room downstairs, you know, the one where you pick who you want, and lying on the table was Joy's dress. We each get one made for us when we're accepted into the house. The first one is paid for, and we are able to get more based on merit and earnings. The most ambitious of us have wardrobes that would make the Queen herself envious. Claudia, one of the older ladies of the house was auctioning the dress. You saw Joy, she was such a little thing that only a few could even consider bidding on it. I tried to ask Claudia why Joy didn't want it anymore, and she just told me that she wouldn't be needing it." She wiped her eyes and found it difficult to articulate her words, "I didn't even think that it would be because...because..." she couldn't finish her sentence.

"We need to talk to Claudia." Athos stated but Nancy just shook her head violently.

"She won't talk to musketeers. You'll find it difficult to find someone who will."

"There seemed to be more than a few willing to last night." D'artagnan said dryly.

"I don't think it was talking they had in mind Monsieur." Nancy retorted.

"You need to find out for us." Porthos said to her, it didn't sound like an order but she knew there was no use refusing.

"Won't it look suspicious? Me asking about a murder, about a girl who left us weeks ago?"

"Make it seem casual. If they're innocent, they won't have anything to hide."

"And if they're guilty?"

They couldn't answer her. She wiped her tears away and pushed her seat out ready to leave.

"You know where to find us." Athos said and she nodded in response and was walked out of the house by Porthos.

"I'll come by and see you every night."

"Don't be silly. You couldn't afford that." He smiled at her humour.

"I'll bankrupt myself." She laughed through her welling eyes, "You're worth it." He wiped her fallen tears from her cheeks and kissed her. He watched as she walked away and got lost in the morning's growing crowd.

"Think this will get us anywhere?" Aramis asked taking Nancy's seat.

"Well, we're closer than we were this time yesterday." Athos answered.

"Do you think we need to look closer at this Derrell?" D'artagnan wondered aloud as Porthos re-entered the room.

"Nah, he does his job well. He protects those girls. I've seen him do it." Porthos explained.

"Could his temper have run away with him? Been misdirected onto Joy?" Aramis suggested.

"I doubt it, his lively hood relies on those women and he understands that. If there's less girls, there's less money."

"Is she reliable, Porthos?" Athos asked the question no one had dared ask before now.

Without any hesitation and as if he was expecting it he answered, "Yeah, yeah she is." That was enough to eliminate their worries. They needed to get back to the garrison and report to Treville the developments in their case. With some hustle and bustle and a lot of thank you's to Constance and cordial farewells to Evette, Athos, Aramis and Porthos left. D'artagnan said he would meet them over there as soon as he retrieved something from his room.

"Well, first an affair with a married woman and now you're visiting whore houses. You really have changed D'artagnan." Evette stood in his doorway as he was collecting organising some of his belongings. "And you preach to me about respectability?"

"It's different for me-"

"Why? Because you're a man? Oh, you disappoint me." She looked at his disgusted and left him standing there. And for the first time, he felt ashamed.


	8. Chapter 8

Standing in Treville's office, the three musketeers were reluctant to report that they had not found any substantial evidence to track down their killer, let alone made any arrests.

"What exactly led you to the brothel?" Treville was leaning on his hands over his desk. His anger was palpable and it fell on the soldiers like a fog.

"The dead girl had a mark on her arm. Porthos knew that it was the mark of that house." Aramis explained quickly, hoping to get this meeting over as soon as possible.

"And how did you know that?" Treville walked and stood in front of Porthos, his question dripped with revulsion. "Never mind, don't answer that. So this mark led you to this Nancy girl, whoever she is. Do you realise that the information you have could put Paris into a serious panic? And you've been handing it out to all of the whores you could lay your eyes on...and hands." He looked pointedly at Porthos. They stayed quiet despite being dangerously close to snapping back at their mentor. Porthos' fist was tightening and it took all of his resolve not to retaliate at Treville's comments about Nancy. "I put my best men on the case so that this lunatic could be caught quickly, and not only have you been gallivanting around the city you've been indulging state secrets to common working girls!"

"She can be trusted!" Porthos shouted. He attempted to calm himself before repeating a little quieter, "She can be trusted." A quiet tension settled upon the room and with a flick of his head Treville had dismissed them but called Athos to stay behind for a moment longer.

"Can she?" he asked, "Do you trust her?"

"I trust Porthos." He loyally replied and without waiting to be dismissed, exited the room.

Sat outside on the garrison's table, Porthos was still, too angry to speak. Aramis sat next to him in understanding silence and Athos eventually joined them.

"He's just frustrated Porthos, try not to take it personally." He tried to comfort him patting his back as he made his way to the opposite side of the table.

"How can he talk about someone like that? So disgusted...she's still a person, a good one-" Porthos was mostly soliloquizing at this point and Aramis and Athos knew better than to interrupt.

D'artagnan however did not. The youngest joined them out of breath and rushed having run from the Bonacieux house to try and make the meeting.

"What did I miss?"

"Judgment, criticism, a metaphorical kick in the-"

"Oh good." The young gascon replied to Athos before taking the seat next to him. Aramis was trying to console Porthos.

"Is Madame Bonacieux safe?" Athos asked D'artagnan privately so that the others wouldn't hear.

"Yeah" he tried to say nonchalantly, he wasn't quite sure if the others knew of their relationship.

"And Evette?"

D'artagnan nodded dismissively but was curious to know why Athos would be interested.

* * *

Nancy walked through the streets trying to hide her face for the tears that were rolling. She remembered back to when she first met Porthos all those years ago. He was as handsome as ever but lacked the commanding presence he has now. She spotted him when he walked into the room; he was with a few other musketeers, none that she could recall now. She wondered what might have happened to them. Derell told them to choose who they wanted and the men disbanded leaving Porthos standing at the doorway looking very uncomfortable and out of place. Nancy felt sorry for him, saved him the trouble and approached him herself.

"You're new." She said as a way of introduction.

"Is it that obvious?" he asked.

She took his hand and said "Come on." She guided him to up the stairs and to her room at the end of the corridor. She opened the door and let him walk in first then closed the door behind her. He looked awkward in his own skin, he seemed so small and vulnerable and the room seemed to get bigger and bigger the longer he waited for her. "You don't have to look so nervous, you know." She pulled him close to her, brought her face up to his and whispered against his lips, "I'll be gentle."

It turns out that she didn't need to be gentle as they didn't do anything but talk. He told her that they were celebrating his initiation into the musketeers regiment and about a girl he once knew from the Court of Miracles. He was clearly nursing a broken heart and was content with telling her his story. They only kissed but he stayed the night and in the morning she lay awake watching him sleep, secretly hoping he would be back. Saying goodbye to him that day was one of the hardest things she had experienced. That is until that morning. The only thing harder than watching Porthos walk away; was lying to him.

* * *

Evette walked into the garrison that afternoon. Horses raced past as musketeers hurried off on their adventures. She hoped that none she knew would be around; she needed to return something and hoped that leaving it with Treville would suffice. She had just reached the steps leading to his office when she heard;

"Are we going to have to arrest you in order to keep you somewhere safe?" the coolness in his voice gave her tingles. He always spoke with such purpose, he did not squander his words therefore when he spoke to her it made her feel all that more exclusive. Mustering her confidence, she turned to Athos who had sat in the shadows but had stepped forward to address her.

"I am merely returning this coin purse. I believe it belongs to Aramis, it was left at the house. Monsieur Bonacieux did not approve of Constance returning it given the current...threat. Nor did he feel comfortable leaving his home; evidently he did not have a problem with me doing so."

"Yes, Bonacieux is not known for his bravery."

"I was just going to leave it with the Captain, but seeing as you're here, would you mind?"

He shook his head and held out his hand. She placed the purse in his palm and felt his cool touch for the second time that day.

"I'll escort you home"

"Given my past experiences when being escorted by a musketeer, I think you'd be safer not to."

"Well fortunately for you, I did not become a musketeer to stay safe." She thought she could see the beginnings of a smile on his lips. "And, it wasn't a question." Looking into his eyes, she felt her stomach twist like it used to when she was a young girl looking into the face of her sweetheart. It had been a long time since she had experienced that feeling. And it worried her.

They left the garrison in silence and made their way back to her lodgings. She had become too nervous to begin a conversation, and the longer they remained quiet the more difficult she found it.

"You've been causing quite the stir since your arrival."

She was surprised that he was the first to speak and it took her a few moments to calm herself before she could articulate an answer.

"That wasn't my intention, Monsieur."

He was humoured by her sudden formality. "Oh, I think it was."

She forgot herself for a moment and was offended by his allegation. "What are you implying? That I throw myself at any man that comes near me." She waited for his answer, but when none came she continued, "Well you can rest assured Sir, you are quite safe from my advances. And if that is what you are looking for and why you offered to walk me home, you will be disappointed." Thankfully they had reached the Bonacieux residence and she walked inside without bidding the musketeer farewell. She was appalled at his audacity and was ashamed that she had felt any attraction toward him. He clearly was not the gentleman he pretended to be, and though she could never admit it to herself, a piece of her heart had just broken apart.

* * *

Athos walked into the garrison and the others had reconvened after their afternoon apart. He sat with them and handed Aramis his coin purse without explanation, and from his expression, Aramis knew it would be best not to enquire after one.

"We need to go back to the brothel tonight." D'artagnan suggested. "We can't keep waiting around for news from Nancy. Not if Treville is as angry as you said he was."

"'D'artagnan is right," when Athos saw Porthos' offended expression he was quick to defend Nancy, "I'm sure she is trying her best, but we have to realise she's not exactly free to come and inform us any time of the day."

"We can't all go back." Aramis said, "They'll start to get suspicious. And if Nancy is right and no one else will talk to musketeers, there's not much use for all four of us to go in, is there?"

"Agreed." Athos said, "Porthos, you'll go. She trusts you, clearly and Aramis you go. You need to convince one of the women to talk to you. Find out from Nancy who is the most likely to indulge information. Find out who Claudia is, keep an eye on her."

"What will we do?" D'artagnan asked, always eager to be on the move he could not consider being idle during a time like this.

"We need to watch Derell."


	9. Chapter 9

Evette sat in the Bonacieux dining room. She could hear the hustle and bustle of the people outside and resented their ignorance about the murderer. She was not accustomed to being locked up in a room all day, she was a farm girl, and she needed the open air and rolling hills like night sky needed the stars-without it she felt empty.

She thought back to her conversation with Athos and was saddened that his interest in her was impure. She had hoped he'd have been different.

Evette was tired of being leered at by men, tired of the control they had over women. That is why she acted as she did, kissed whom she liked and revelled in joy when it was them caught off guard and were stunned into silence. She smiled at Aramis' face when she kissed him, she regretted the feelings it brought out in him, but they both knew he'd move on. There was no future for her and Aramis, he needed a respectable woman, someone who wasn't broken.

Her moment with Porthos was fleeting. He epitomised to her what a soldier should be, he was strong and ruthless, but he cared and wasn't afraid to show it. Warmth radiated off him and you couldn't help but feel protected when he was around. They were friends at least she would like to think that they were, or could be.

D'artagnan couldn't be swayed. He couldn't see Evette, not really. All he could see was what happened to her before. He saw her younger self; she only had a fraction of the attitude she carried with her today but she was still stronger than the average girl. She enjoyed flirting and the company of men and with no other women around, no mother to bring her up she had become accustomed to being around them. She liked to tease and play but she knew where to draw the line, despite what D'artagnan thought, she had boundaries. He couldn't see that what happened was not her fault. Why should she reap the consequences of an act that she didn't sew? He wouldn't understand it. She'd tried to stop it but wasn't strong enough and she was beginning to fear that he would never believe her. The idea he had of her wasn't real; he'd created it based on what had happened to her, not what she had done. There's a difference in what happens to you and what you happen to do. She swore on that day that she would not let a man dictate her life and if that made her a social pariah, then so be it. She would rather live a life alone than one forced upon her surrounded by people she couldn't stand.

She wanted D'artagnan to understand. She thought back to their upbringing when they were happy. As children they played together, they fought one another, they helped one another. When their father began teaching D'artagnan how to sword fight Evette could remember being consumed with jealousy. She begged her father to allow her to try but he could not be swayed. She memorised their routines, watched closely at their quick reactions and longed to try it herself. One morning she remembered, she awoke early, the sun had yet to rise and the moon was still glowing. She took D'artagnan's sword and made her way over to one of their fields. She hid herself behind a large tree and swung the sword. It was heavier than she thought it would be and her arm felt weak under its weight. She had to hold it with both hands and she tried her hardest to replicate the moves she had seen D'artagnan execute. Just as her arm was tiring and the sun was threatening shine its light upon the day, D'artagnan appeared and teased her until she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. He realised that he had hurt her feelings and made her an offer.

"How about you practice with me? We won't tell father, and he can't know that I'm teaching you. If I'm ever to become a musketeer, I need to be an expert swordsman."

She smiled at this memory and longed for the days where their relationship was based on more than the fact that they were kin to one another. In the years that followed, she became quite skilled at the sword, but when D'artagnan's strength grew she struggled to keep up with him. But, she still considered herself a worthy opponent-should the circumstance ever arise.

As she was pondering and quite distracted by her memories, she hadn't heard the door open and close, nor had she realised that there were others in the house. She stood up when she saw D'artagnan, he hadn't expected her to be there and he told her that he was looking for Constance. She told him that she was in the back rooms with her husband and he nodded cordially and went to find her. Evette hadn't noticed Athos was behind him. They stood awkwardly for a moment before she offered him a drink.

"No. Thank you. But I'll take a seat if you don't mind sitting in my company for a few minutes?"

She motioned to the chair at the head of the table and they both sat. The awkwardness crept over them once again.

"I apologise for offending you earlier." He locked eyes with her and her heart fluttered a little. She did her best to ignore it. "You misconstrued what I was saying and I'm sorry for not being clearer with you." Her eyebrows knotted together as she wondered what he had actually meant to say. He didn't continue to explain his apology, instead he asked; "I trust your run in with Aramis hasn't affected you too badly?"

She was surprised that he knew, she didn't think that anyone did. He continued to look at her expectantly and for once she felt lost for words. When she didn't offer a response she again spotted what seemed to be the beginnings of a smile form in the corners of his mouth. She didn't like to be teased and finally said, "Not at all Monsieur. Like I told Porthos, I'm stronger than I look."

"Yes...you are aren't you?"

D'artagnan re-entered the room and Athos got up quickly from his seat. "Right, I was just telling the Bonacieux's that I won't be back tonight." He said to his sister, she nodded because she didn't quite know whether to engage in conversation or not. They had not spoken since she had let him know that she knew of his affair with Constance and even before that they had not had a civil conversation since her arrival. "You need to make sure the door is locked and stay here, especially after it gets dark." This new attentive side was a surprise to Evette, he almost seemed to back to his old self, the kind she remembered from before everything between them changed. "I'll be back in the morning." He nodded to her and made to leave. Athos bid her au revoir and the musketeers left. She was again left alone and mulled over her conversation with Athos. Never had she felt so rejected by a man whilst feeling such a strong pull toward him. It made her feel uneasy.

Outside the two men made their way through the busy crowd.

"That was very mature of you." Athos commented to his young friend.

"Well, it doesn't look like she'll be leaving anytime soon, so it's best to try and get on."

Athos agreed silently and fought the urge to smile.


	10. Chapter 10

**[To the guest who left a comment asking about whether we know what happened to Evette yet...no we dont! Sorry I couldn't reply personally, there's no way to reply to anonymous reviews! :) Hope you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know what you think- R&R]**

* * *

Porthos and Aramis stood outside the brothel. The scene was very much the same as the night before, there were people all around and children playing despite the late hour. Porthos knocked in the same fashion as before and Derell opened the door.

"Back again Porthos?" the two musketeers entered the dark hallway, "You must've been one satisfied customer." Derell was leering at the men, inappropriately raising his eyebrows. But seeing as they didn't want to raise suspicion Porthos played along.

"Well, you know Nancy! She knows how to please."

Derell laughed with him and patted Porthos on the back. They reached the table which was their queue to disarm themselves.

"Are you both wanting Nancy again? I tell you something Porthos, I'm not happy with you sharing my girls between you. It doesn't feel fair on them."

"Nah, not tonight. Aramis will have one of his own."

They walked into the room where all of the girls were waiting. Porthos automatically searched for Nancy whilst Aramis scanned the room judging to see which one might be compliant to their requests. Having found Nancy, she and Porthos left the room quickly whilst Aramis was still deciding on a girl. Derell stood nearby eyeing him curiously waiting to see who he would choose. He wasn't short of choice either, a number of bold girls approached him which was inevitable due to his good looks and musketeer uniform, but he eventually settled on a girl, who sat apart from everyone else. He walked over to her and offered his hand, she took it without question and they left the room.

* * *

D'artagnan and Athos were outside trying to blend in with the crowd. They were stood against a wall which faced the brothel, drinks in their hand and sans uniform. Athos was leaning casually against the wall, surveying the scene and taking in every movement, every character and every brawl. D'artagnan was standing on edge; he was ready to attack at the slightest provocation.

"Stand down D'artagnan. We don't want people to get suspicious."

D'artagnan realised he was being less than subtle and tried to imitate Athos' stance and attitude. Just as before, children were running around, adults were drinking copious amounts of wine and acts that Aramis would consider 'debauched' were around every corner. Morality was optional in this part of Paris.

Just in front of them, gamblers were gathered around a game that was unfamiliar to the musketeers. Both men and women were huddled over the small table where money was being exchanged quicker than greetings. Athos was watching intently while D'artagnan struggled to focus on one particular act in this den of iniquity.

The woman who was controlling the game was undeniably strong. She had the presence to control all of those who surrounded her and although she was rather beautiful, it was because of her character not her looks. She was their equal, if not their superior. From what Athos could gather, her sole job was to roll the die and keep the players in check. But the main reason Athos' attention was fixated on her was because of a familiar mark on her arm.

Before telling D'artagnan where he was going, Athos moved from the wall and joined the game. D'artagnan watched him go but seeing as he didn't have spare coins he stayed where he was. In an attempt to remain nonchalant, he allowed his mind to wander over his own life. He thought of Evette's sudden appearance into his life and still wondered what she wanted. He thought back over his time in Paris, his rise into the Musketeers ranks and his relationship with Constance. It had been a hectic year for the young Gascon and he hadn't really contemplated the change in his life. Only twelve months ago he was hell bent on killing the man he was currently working with, he had never been in love and he had never imagined he would be- much less in love with a married woman. He'd killed more men than he thought he ever would and was surprised with the strength that he possessed. He now felt like a soldier. This had always been D'artagnan's dream, he was a fighter at heart and his thirst for justice was unquenchable, so why was he unhappy? The image of Constance kept appearing in his mind and he thought back to the beginning of their relationship.

It was fun and exciting, he had finally told her how he felt and his heart soared when she had returned the feelings. Her husband was blind to his wife and they took advantage of it. Some days they would spend hours talking, laughing, touching and Bonacieux never caught on. But things began to change; Bonacieux did not have as many clients as he once had which meant he spent much of his time at the house. As D'artagnan's position with the musketeers solidified, he had less time to spend with Constance. They were reduced to hushed whispers when Bonacieux's head was turned and swift kisses in the dead of night. He loved Constance but if this is was all their love affair could amount to, he needed to consider their future. He could feel resentment building up inside of his chest when they acted like a happy couple, when she questioned D'artagnan about where he had been or when she would spend her nights away from him.

He was pulled from his thoughts when the gamblers before him made a particular raucous sound. Athos however, was predictably calm. Whereas the men surrounding him had their attention on the most recent winner of the game, Athos was watching the dealer intently. He was putting money down without really paying attention to the rules of the game, not that his competitors were complaining. Over the noise of the game he tried to attract the attention of the woman.

"Does the game go on all night?"

"Until the money runs out...or the wine." She continued to roll the die whilst the money was still flowing. Athos still hadn't quite grasped the rules of the game but that wasn't the intention.

The stakes were getting higher and Athos was running out of coins.

"It's getting too rich for my blood."

She was distracted with the other players but responded nonetheless, "You've been betting too quickly, you should've waited and controlled the highest bid." He didn't really know what she was explaining, but was impressed by her knowledge nonetheless. He was out of money and had no excuse to stay longer. He resumed his post near D'artagnan and waited for the game to finish. They needed to talk to this girl.

* * *

Porthos was in Nancy's room. As soon as he had closed the door behind him, she rushed into his arms pulling him into her and kissing him passionately.

"Woah, woah. Wait a second." He was trying to untangle himself from her. "We need to talk first."

"Ohh, there's plenty of time for that after." She said, trying to work her way back up to his lips, unclipping his jacket as she did so. He continued to fight off her advances until she resigned herself to talking. "I don't really know what to tell you Porthos. I've asked a few of the girls, but no one knows anything about Joy."

"What about Claudia?"

"She didn't know anything. It's difficult to talk without Derell finding out."

"You'll have to do it while he sleeps. You're all we've got."

A look came across her face and she knew this was the time to distract him, "I'm all you need." And she took his hands and guided him to the bed.

* * *

Aramis was having just as much luck with his informant. He had tried to approach the subject gracefully but she was not co-operating as much as he'd have hoped. She was trying her best to get him into her bed and after his best attempt at distracting her attention he bluntly said, "I'm here about the dead girl."

That knocked the desire out of her and she was shocked at his blatant lack of interest in sleeping with her.

"The dead girl? What dead girl?"

"She was found in the marketplace a few days ago. We believe that her name was Joy and that she was a resident of this house."

"Joy?" a flicker of recognition graced her features and Aramis was quick enough to spot it before she rearranged her mask. "I've never heard of her." Aramis knew she was lying but there was nothing he could do.

"Look, she wasn't the first one, and she won't be last. We need to know everything about this girl otherwise we don't know who could be next."

"Like I said, I've never heard of her."

Aramis gave up. He was about to leave the room when he turned back, "What's your name?" She didn't answer him and he hadn't really expected her to. "Well, in case you remember anything about her, my name is Aramis of the King's Musketeers. You can find me at the garrison and if you're worried about what will happen in you talk to us, just remember; we can protect you."

* * *

The game was slowly dying out and only a few players remained. D'artagnan and Athos stayed close, ready to talk to the games dealer. When the winner was announced and the table emptied, they approached the girl.

"Excuse me?" D'artagnan began.

"I'm sorry boys; the next game won't start for another thirty minutes or so."

"We're not looking for a game. We need to talk to you about something." Athos said stepping forward, "Privately."

"I don't do that sort of thing. You're better off going over there. They've got what you want." She said all of this while putting her equipment away and barely looking up at the men. She was used to these kinds of advances and she was more than comfortable at rejecting them.

"That's not what we meant Mademoiselle-"

"It's Madame actually." She corrected D'artagnan before finally looking up at them.

"Our apologies. We'd like to ask you about that mark on your arm. We can discuss it here out in the open or we can go somewhere private."

She motioned to an alley that was near her table. The three of them walked half way down until she felt they were suitably hidden from the outside.

"You obviously know what it means-" she started.

"Not exactly." Athos clarified.

"It's a brand, it shows that you belong to something. This one is for Pascal House."

"That's the whore house across the way?" D'artagnan asked.

"Brothel, yes." She answered dismissively.

"You worked there?"

"For a short time. I didn't like it, so I left."

"You left? I didn't think it was the kind of place you could just leave."

"It's complicated. I-"

"Rose?!" a voice called down the alley way, "where are ya?"

"COMING!" she called to the voice, "look I've got to go. Don't tell anyone we spoke...please." And before they could answer she ran back up the alley way to join the voice that called her.


	11. Chapter 11

Exasperated and still nowhere near finding any legitimate information about the victim, Athos and D'artagnan walked out of the alleyway hoping that Aramis and Porthos would have something more substantial to report. After only a few moments of wandering amongst the crowd, they came across Aramis.

"Any luck?" Athos asked him.

"No, she wouldn't tell me a thing."

"Was she scared to?"

"I don't think so. I just don't think she wanted to." Aramis was scratching the back of his head looking desperately around for a way out. People were everywhere and he felt barricaded in. "What did you find out?"

"Very little."

"Where's Porthos?" D'artagnan asked suddenly realising his absence.

"He's not out yet?" Aramis asked, "Hopefully he'll have something worthwhile to report."

* * *

Porthos lay back in bed exhausted but elated. They were both breathing heavily, trying to recover from the last hour's amorous activities.

"God," Porthos started when he'd finally got his breath back, "that brought back a lot of memories."

"I'd almost forgotten how...explosive we were together." She said turning to face him. "It's been a while Porthos."

"Yeah" he said contemplative.

"I thought you might have met someone, got married, settled down..."

"Hardly, unless you count settling down with Aramis and Athos."

"And D'artagnan's your child?" she said playfully and he laughed.

"Something like that."

They were quiet for a few moments, regaining their rhythmic breathing. Nancy was summoning the courage to broach a subject she had been contemplating since Porthos had re-entered her life. She wasn't sure if now was the best time to ask, but before she could lose her courage again, it slipped out;

"Why did you stop visiting me?"

Porthos looked at her; she looked vulnerable lying there naked asking something he knew was difficult for her. She wasn't supposed to get involved with customers; she shouldn't even talk to them, much less get to know them.

"I never forgot about you. It's just...when I met Aramis and Athos-"

"You didn't need me anymore", she finished his sentence, although he hoped he would have put it a little more delicately.

As cruel as it sounded, it was true. He found companionship with his friends and gradually he felt that he didn't need to visit Nancy. It's true that he never stopped thinking about her, but as time went on, the pull he felt to her faded away. His silence was enough to confirm her theory.

She quickly uncovered herself and got up from the bed, "well, it's no matter now." She covered herself with a robe and stood at the end of the bed. She was clearly about to dismiss him so he stood and began to dress. "You didn't pay for the whole night, so we don't want Derell to get suspicious."

"Course, yeah." He was trying to dress quickly, he hadn't met to offend her but he did need to leave. When he was dressed she went to the door and opened it, he walked up to her and tried to comfort her. He took one of her hands and held her head in his other hand, "I meant when I said I never forgot about you. I just...you know we can't be-"

"You don't have to justify yourself. I'm a big girl." She winked at him and her mask was back on.

He leaned in to kiss her but she turned her head and he had to settle on kissing her cheek. As soon as he left the room she closed the door behind him.

She rushed over to her window and waited to watch him leave. As soon as he had, she turned back to leave her room, but when the door opened, in front of her stood the girl Aramis had spoken to.

"Alaina!" Nancy jumped, "You scared me. What is it?"

"Not out here", and without an invitation she walked into Nancy's room. She was agitated and wringing her hands in worriment. "He's a musketeer too isn't he?" She was referring to Porthos. Nancy nodded not really knowing where this was going. "Did he ask you about Joy?"

Nancy was shocked and then she remembered that he wasn't the only musketeer who had visited the house that night. "Aramis?" she asked, "What did say to you?"

"He wants information-"

"What did you tell him?!" Nancy was almost frantic with worry.

"Nothing. I told him that I didn't know anything." Nancy exhaled with relief. "He was persistent though. He thinks that it might happen again." Nancy nodded at the information; she knew all of this.

"Nancy" she looked into the face of her questioner, "will it?"

* * *

Porthos joined his comrades and they greeted him hopefully, but when he offered no new information their shoulders lagged with disappointment.

"You've been in there over two hours," D'artagnan said "what have you been doing?"

"Don't answer that", Athos said walking past Porthos to lead his team out of the area. His men followed behind him and soon they were back at the garrison.

"I think the girl I spoke to will be of some help," Aramis offered.

"What was her name?" D'artagnan asked. Aramis however furrowed his eye brows and gave no answer.

"Excellent. Well, apart from a satisfied Porthos, nothing else came out of this evening." D'artagnan responded.

"Not true. The game dealer, she was co-operative. We know that her name is Rose. It's a start." Athos was being optimistic, they knew that the odds of finding her alone again were slim, but there was a small chance and it was all they had.

The musketeers disbanded for the night ready to get some rest and reconvene in the morning.

* * *

When D'artagnan entered the Bonacieux house he was immediately greeted with a warm embrace and passionate kisses.

"What took you so long? I've been so worried you wouldn't come before he woke up." Constance was kissing down his neck continuously as she spoke. Reluctantly he untangled her arms from around his neck.

"Wait, wait, wait." He said and led her to his bedroom, again she embraced him and kissed him with such fervour that he almost forgot he had intended to talk to her. He eventually and with much self control, separated his lips from hers and held her at arm's length. "Evette saw your note. She knows about us."

Horror and concern darkened Constance's face. "What- um, is she...will she say anything?"

"I don't think so."

She sighed with relief and approached him to resume their kiss, but he withdrew from her touch. "This is our opportunity. We always knew telling the first person would be the hardest, but now that it's out-"

"What are you suggesting?"

"It's time we tell Bonacieux. We've no reason not to now, and it's best he hears it from us first."

She looked at D'artagnan like he had lost touch with reality.

"Tell Bonacieux? And then what?"

"And then...we'll be together."

"We'll be together" she repeated, "Where?"

"Well, we could go to the garrison; I should be living there now anyway since I've officially joined the ranks-"

"And live in sin?"

This caught D'artagnan off guard, he had always assumed that they would eventually be together but the thought of it being a sin had never occurred to him. They loved each other, what could possibly be sinful about that?

"As long as it's a secret D'artagnan, we have a home together. If he finds out, we'll have nothing-"

"Except each other."

"Don't be naive my love. When Bonacieux finds out, both of us will be thrown out into that street" she said motioning to the window, "and if you think we would be able to walk into that garrison with our heads held high after what we've done-" D'artagnan had heard enough. He turned away from her and sat on his bed, when he saw she was stepping forward to join him he put out his hand to protest.

"I didn't realise you were so ashamed. Perhaps you should be with your husband tonight. Appease your conscience...as it were."

"D'artagnan-"

"Go" he said softly, and she did.

* * *

Evette lay in her bed awake. How anyone expected her to sleep soundly with all of the escapades happening around her was beyond her understanding. She heard D'artagnan come home and knew that Constance had been in his room. She heard her return to her husband and wondered if the inevitable had happened.

Her mind was recounting the day's events and she could not shake the way Athos spoke to her at their last encounter. He sounded almost...admiring. Those flutters in the pit of her stomach returned and she tried her hardest to repress them. He really was a curious sort of character, so detached yet when he spoke to her, his eyes bore deep into hers making her feel exposed but connected.

She desperately tried to rid her mind of his face and eventually she fell into a peaceful rest, albeit dominated by visions of that mysterious musketeer.


	12. Chapter 12

Nancy and Alaina stood before Derell, the candlelight was casting menacing shadows over his face making the devilment in his eyes leap out over the two women. The house which once held such allure and adventure had consumed her spirit and for the first time, in a long time, Nancy was scared. She stood solid and erect, determined not to let Derell see the affect he had over her. But if Nancy thought she was exerting herself to conceal her fear, Alaina deserved an award for her efforts. She held her hands tightly behind her back to hide the trembling. Her eyes fell on every part of the room that was not in the vicinity of Derell and her breathing was so ragged that she worried she might faint.

Derell was sat behind a desk, despite his menacing look he was laid back in his chair with his feet propped up in front of him, his hands were supporting his head and he exuded an air of superiority. These women were afraid of him and he enjoyed the power it gave him.

"What exactly are you trying to say?" his nonplussed attitude disconcerted the women.

"I don't know how much longer we can put these musketeers off." Nancy was trying to project confidence but her insides shook.

"You mean your powers of seduction have weakened? Because Nancy, I must say without them you are quite useless to me-"

"I mean, it's not enough. Not for these men."

He chuckled to himself and thought he had never met a man that could not be lured from their thoughts with the advances of a beautiful woman. These musketeers must be of a different breed than those he was used to dealing with. He swung his legs off the desk and rose from his seat.

"What do you want from me?" the humour he felt a moment ago had vanished, his eyes were darkened and Alaina physically recoiled from his glare.

"What's next?" she felt meek but her small voice spoke volumes in the silence of the room, it sounded almost intimate. He looked at her as if her presence had offended him; he silently leant forward and placed his hands on the desk balancing him as he bowed forward slightly.

"What's next?" he whispered almost inaudibly. "WHAT'S NEXT?!" he screamed at the women as he slammed his fists on the table making them jump. "What is next?...hm?" He moved to stand in front of them, he approached Nancy and she held her ground not moving from the erect stance she had adopted at the beginning of their conversation. "If you don't think of something my dear, they'll find out won't they? And what do you think your dear Porthos will do then?" He softly run a finger across Nancy's cheek and she fought had against the urge to slap it away. "What will _you_ do then?" his hand reached the nape of her neck and he grabbed at her hair and repeated viciously directly into her ear, "what will you do then?"

"I could go to Aramis." Alaina exulted desperately and Derell's attention was snatched away from Nancy.

"Is that a threat?" he asked approaching her menacingly.

"No, I could go to Aramis and tell him things...wrong things. Give him a false lead? Distract them from us."

Derell had let go on Nancy and was approaching Alaina slowly, like a predator advancing on its prey. She took a leaf out of Nancy's book and tried to give an impression of confidence, she maintained eye contact and a challenging stance.

"False information? You think he would believe you?"

"I could persuade him." She was almost begging but trying her hardest not to appear desperate. She knew what Derell was capable off and did not want to be on the receiving end of one of his fists.

* * *

Evette was sat at the table she held her chin in her hands and again became a part of the Bonacieux furniture. The married couple were going about their usual day, Bonacieux was being overly affectionate but Constance was curiously repulsed- more so than usual.

"I can do that my love", he said taking a stack of fabrics from her and organising them himself. So she moved on to wiping down glasses that had recently been used, but was again told to cease with the task and relax. He attempted to caress her face and kiss her hands but was met with impatient withdrawals and brooding tempers.

She could sense the resentment bubbling inside herself and knew that if only she weren't married that happiness was within her grasp. It wasn't easy to get a Musketeer, but she managed to and knew they could never be together. Constance hadn't realised how bored she was, how much she craved adventure and longed for affection. But mostly she hadn't realised how incompatible her and Bonacieux were. His touch made her skin crawl and even though in her heart she knew that he meant well, she couldn't help but resent him for keeping her away from the life that she longed for. After resigning to giving up all activity, she sat next to the window and gazed out daydreaming whilst her husband hustled and bustled all around her.

* * *

Alaina made her way to the musketeer garrison. She fussed with her dress, smoothing out the creases and paused every so often to perfect what she would say to Aramis. She was mouthing the words she would say and the more she practiced the higher her nerves got.

When she walked into the garrison she scanned the faces of the men all around, she recognised a few as her customers. This kind of circumstance always amused her, there were the men who would acknowledge her happily- some would wave, some would wink, others would even approach her for a friendly conversation. But then there were the others. The hypocrites and usually the most depraved- they had no problem sharing her bed, kissing her lips and using her body; but in the light of day she couldn't pay them to give her the courtesy of a few seconds of eye contact. Sometimes men really sickened her.

She spotted Aramis cleaning his musket* as he sat at the table. He was flanked by two other Musketeers she'd never seen before and the nerves came flooding back to her. She took a few steadying breaths and approached the men. With each step she attempted to perfect the persona she kept solely for her work; if she was going to convince Aramis that she knew nothing, it was going to take some skill.

"Monsieur Aramis?"

As soon as he heard her voice, he stowed his musket, safely of course and removed his hat.

"I suppose you may remember me? Alaina...from the other night." She looked playfully at the two men behind him and said, "Perhaps we could go somewhere a little more...private?"

He smiled at her new attitude and led her to his room. Once she was inside, she remained quiet.

"Alaina? That's a beautiful name."

She resisted his eye contact as the nerves overcame her.

"What can I do for you..Alaina?" He had adopted his seductive tone but she wasn't susceptible to it.

"You asked me about that girl, the one you found in the market-"

"Joy. Yes?"

"I remembered something..."

"So you did know her?"

"We weren't exactly friends if that's what you mean."

"That's not what I asked now is it."

"I knew her." She paused to gather her thoughts and tried to create the allusion of being contrite. "I didn't tell you before because she wasn't the kind of girl you would want to be associated with. She had a reputation."

"I didn't think status and repute were things that concerned-"

"Whores?" She interrupted him. "I did not come here to be judged Monsieur, you asked me for information-" she was hastily making her way toward the door glad of the excuse to leave, but he blocked her way and held her arms keeping her in place.

"I'm sorry Mademoiselle, I forgot myself. I'm grateful for anything you can tell me."

She relaxed again and tried to recall the story she had invented. He motioned to a chair and asked her to sit.

"Please, continue."

"Like I said, she wasn't the kind of person you would want to be associated with. She spoke out of turn, she would leave the house for days without telling anyone, she gambled-"

"Gambled?"

"The money she made in Pascal, wouldn't last her more than a day. She spent and owed money all over the city to god knows whom. Truthfully, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner."

Aramis considered her words but wasn't convinced.

"Do you know of anyone else she was associated with? Who she would go to when not in the house?"

"Like I said, I tried not to be associated with her."

Aramis sighed and frustrated with the lack of viable information, thanked Alaina for coming in to see him and evidently she thought she had done enough to assuage their interest in Pascal House. She left Aramis' room and made her way back through the garrison. Aramis escorted her as far as the exit then turned back to the table he was at when she had approached him. Still sat there was Athos and D'artagnan, he sat opposite them shaking his head.

"She's covering for someone" He answered to their inquisitive looks. "Her hearts not in it though," he looked back to where she had left the building, "she didn't try very hard to convince me."

* * *

Bonacieux had just left the women for a moment of rare peace. He had an errand to run and after much persuasion from his wife, he agreed to go after he had locked them indoors.

Constance had spent much of the day staring contemplative out of the window and although Evette wasn't overly fond of the woman who was breaking her brother's heart, seeing anyone looking so woeful was depressing.

"Forgive me Madame, but I can't help but notice...you're not...yourself today." She was approaching her carefully hoping not to ignite the temper she knew her landlord possessed.

"You're very observant." Constance didn't even move her eyes away from the window, "Have you ever felt, that your life was out of your control?" Evette was shocked that she had continued the conversation, she pulled a chair from the table and joined her at the window. "Like, no matter what you do things will happen. You will end up in the same place, with the same people and not even know how you got there."

Honestly, Evette was confused by this question but decided to listen on hoping to decipher a meaning from it. "I never thought that when I married Bonacieux. I thought that I loved him."

"You could leave him."

"And be destitute?"

"D'artagnan would look after you, you know that."

"A musketeer is a man of honour. I couldn't let him walk through that garrison knowing he has destroyed a marriage."

"He already does." Constance looked at her and realised for the first time, that regardless of whether she stays with Bonacieux or not, their marriage was over.

"I don't know if I can do it" she was whispering and tears were forming in her eyes, "I'm not strong enough."

"I beg to differ, I know we've not been intimately acquainted since my arrival but from what I have observed, you are strong. Not many women can hold their own in a roomful of Musketeers and be considered their equal."

"You could."

"I didn't say it was unique, I said rare." She smiled and was glad that Constance's cold facade was melting. "I am not one to conform to the rules, things have happened and I try to live my life in a way that benefits me. And in all honesty, I am happier for it. I may be judged for my brazen behaviour or when I speak before I think but it's worth it."

She left Constance to her thoughts and decided to pay the garrison a visit. It was high time her and her brother cleared the air.

* * *

Walking up to the garrison always reminded her of the night she arrived. Rage pulsated through her body and she wanted nothing more than to hurt her brother. She wouldn't have killed him but she just wanted revenge for abandoning her. She resented him for his freedom and hated that he judged her for not choosing the life he wanted for her.

Caught up in her own contemplations she was inside the barracks before she realised, it was mostly empty and she had to search around for a familiar face. She walked under the archways and behind the beams hoping to recognise her brother amongst the few faces that were there, but she was disappointed. She crossed to the other side and caught a glimpse of a uniform she recognised. Athos stood in outside of a door, presumably his room but was not alone. Standing with him was a very beautiful woman. They were close together and whispering intensely, Evette stayed back and was paralysed on the spot. Athos eventually turned and opened the door and guided the woman into his room with his hand of the small of her back. Evette, who had been holding her breath remembered to breathe and felt winded. She turned and fled from the garrison, hoping never to see that musketeer again.


End file.
